Skip to main content

Eulogy (part 1)

My father spent the last few years of his life on the streets of San Jose, homeless. He separated from his wife. He refused to take medication that would’ve helped him deal with being Bipolar. He refused help and handouts. His driving force for living another day was securing my inheritance and ultimately his legacy. He lost most of his grip on reality at that time, but still very much brilliant and majestic. My aunt and uncles found him once and had him admitted into a home for mental patients. He was out processed shortly after, because the doctors and other caregivers could find no insanity in him whatsoever. He was described as charming and engaging. And so he returned to the streets of San Jose, a prince.

I flew out to San Jose when I was notified of his death. I walked the streets where he roamed and ruled, my father the prince. I sensed his charm and majesty as I stood in the place where he drew his last breath. Equally I felt his pain and failure as I wondered what was going through his mind that night as he waited to die on the sidewalk. In his wallet, two dollars and five dimes, hardly the inheritance he expected to leave for me. I wish he knew that I didn’t give a damn about the money. He wouldn’t accept that and for the longest, I didn’t understand. It wasn’t until he died, that I finally understood why what he would leave for me was so important to him. He was worried about his legacy. How would I remember him? Would I honor him? I felt anger as I wondered why he didn’t want to be rescued. Why didn’t he humble himself and ask for help? But I guess all royalty struggles with asking for charity.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Watching My Step

I've always had big feet. It's true. There was never a moment in my childhood when my feet were not an object of frustration and ridicule. And those "dogs" were all over the place, facing the wrong direction, tripping over themselves, tripping over coffee tables, desks, chairs, other people. It was embarrasing. Watching my step was a full time job. Since becoming a man, I've mastered my former oppressors (my size 14's) and you would hardly noticed my attention to detail. However, today, at 40, I'm still watching my step. With so much experience and success with walking and watching my step, I've discovered that the same is true in my spiritual life as well. I haven't always watched my step in life and of course, it resulted in me finding myself in all kinds of traps, snares and dead ends. I've spent years tripping over my sinful habits and walking down dirt roads that lead to nowhere. To no one's blame but my own. After experiencin...
1 comment
Read more

Eulogy (part 2)

My father never found his kingdom on earth. The multimillion dollar inheritance that he often spoke of with such hope and promise would never be realized. That two dollars and fifty cents? I still have it today. When I first discovered in his wallet, among his belongings, I wept. Such a proud and successful man should never die with so little. I now keep it among my prize possessions in honor of what my father did leave me. He left me with something greater than a kingdom on earth. He left me with a desire and a passion to be the father that he couldn’t be with me. He left me with a thirst for love and family. In the end when I think of my father, a number descriptions come to mind: bold, passionate, angry, driven. But I know that he loved me best way he could. In his own way, everything he did was for me. The way he lived his life and even the way he died. His cause of death was congested heart failure. Indeed my father had so much on his heart th...
Post a Comment
Read more

whatever

when you notice me do you really know it's me cause i'm a be what i'm supposed to be whether your near or not that close to me fact is, i really don't practice this and i can careless how black this is you can't charge me like paying taxes and turn around and ask me to act like this drag your feet, slur your speech grab your crotch before you teach i understand that's some of the things you see but what does that have to do with me seriously...like, i wanna know how many brothers do you know not all of us are quick, some are slow some, like me, say "four" some brothers say "fo" just because i say "for" don't make me no better i just know how to dress for the weather whether i need to be direct or clever if i'm still not black enough...whatever
2 comments
Read more